Archangel's Light (Guild Hunter #14)(8)

Regardless, Sharine wasn’t looking forward to that part of things, but she was glad for Illium. Right now, at so young an age, he was happy to live with her, and to see his father only when Aegaeon came to visit the Refuge, but there would come a time when her boy needed his father’s guidance.

She’d seen that with Nadiel and Caliane’s boy.

Her heart ached at the thought of the new archangel who’d once been a youth devastated by the execution of his father. But Raphael had never blamed his mother for her actions, old enough to understand that his father was no longer who he’d once been, and needed to be stopped.

Still, she knew he missed Nadiel.

Boys and their fathers, it was a different bond than the one they had with their mothers.

Today, her boy sat proudly in his father’s arms as Aegaeon closed the rest of the distance to Sharine’s cottage. Aegaeon was shirtless, as was his predilection, and the swirl on his chest shone silver in the sunlight. He was a handsome man, and once, he’d taken her breath away.

That first flush of love had passed, but she still turned her face into his palm when he cupped her cheek, her heart sighing at his return. “Welcome home.”

“It is good to be here,” Aegaeon said, his voice a deep pulse she felt in her bones, and his smile blinding. “What a treat you are for my eyes, Sharine.” A low rumble. “My court is a place of constant battle, but here, there is peace. I would live always in the Refuge were I able.”

Sweet, sweet words that fell like nourishing rain on a heart that had never again thought to fall in love. “We have missed you.” Before him, she’d believed she was content in her aloneness, in her small circle of friendship and art.

Then he’d swept into her life, made his way into her heart, woken her up again. “I wish you could be here always, too,” she said, pushing aside the knowledge of his harem, and of his life in a far-off land kissed by another ocean.

None of that mattered as long as he loved their son.





Freedom and love are entwined.

    —Lady Sharine





6



Today

Aodhan hadn’t slept. He was old enough that he didn’t need sleep as a mortal did, but he still usually got a few hours a night. That had been impossible last night, with Illium behind a closed door across from him.

At any other time in their history, he’d have thought nothing of just opening that door and walking in, sprawling himself down in a chair and talking to the other man while Illium wound down from the stress of the long flight.

Even during the years immediately after his rescue when he’d been lost in a nightmare so profound that he’d been all but dead, Illium had been a familiar and welcome presence in his life. Aodhan had stopped talking for a long time, but he’d always stayed in the room when Illium spoke to him—Illium had told Aodhan of his latest work for Raphael, spoken of his newest fleeting romance, or of things amusing and interesting that he’d thought Aodhan would enjoy.

Illium burned so bright with energy and life that it was impossible to be anything but compelled by him . . . overwhelmed by him.

Now, Aodhan stared at the single blue feather he’d painted in the hours since his shift ended. His preference was natural light, but he’d learned to work in artificial light. He’d only switched off those lights a half hour past, when early morning sunlight began to slant onto the balcony.

The dawnlight picked up the glittering silver he’d added to the filaments, the myriad tones of blue. Most people thought Illium’s feathers were a single shade of blue, but they weren’t. The shade people saw was made up of layers of others.

Aodhan knew every single one of them.

Dropping his paintbrush onto the small table he kept out here, he stared at the blue that stained his fingers. What the hell was he doing? Spine stiff, he walked into the suite’s bathing chamber to wash off the betraying color. Nothing spotted the dark brown of his pants, or the simple white of his long-sleeved tunic.

He never wore sleeveless clothing in Suyin’s court. These people didn’t know him as those in the Tower did; the occasional accidental touch happened. Nothing overt and no one had pushed against his request that they keep their distance, but they forgot. No one back home ever did.

And back home, he had people whose touch he welcomed.

Aodhan. Suyin’s mental voice was as elegant and gentle as her physical presence; it held none of the violent power of Raphael’s. Yet it was unquestionable that they were both archangels. Aodhan had never experienced a clearer indication of different types of power.

Suyin. In an act of respect for her position—and though theirs was meant to be a temporary alliance, he’d called her sire at first.

It was Suyin who’d asked him to drop the distance. “You’re the one person in my court who I can trust without worry at this point in time,” she’d said. “Be my friend, Aodhan. You know far more than I about how an archangel–second bond should work. You’ve seen it firsthand in Raphael and Dmitri’s long relationship. Teach me how that happens.”

“I can’t teach you that,” Aodhan had said, because he wouldn’t lie to her. “The sire and Dmitri were friends long before they were archangel and second.” Neither one spoke often about their initial friendship, and Aodhan had picked up enough over the years to understand it was because in that deep past lay a haunting loss.